what an entertaining creature it is. Its voracity keeps it on the
alert for food. To capture a grasshopper one moment, a race-runner
lizard the next, and a tarantula the next requires strength, speed,
and prowess. If nymph grasshoppers are numerous, the bird has no
trouble in obtaining a meal. But flying grasshoppers are difficult
to overtake; lizards escape because of the brittleness of their
tails; and tarantulas have burrows into which they can pop when
danger threatens.
Not often does one see a wild roadrunner capturing its food. I
recall watching one a year or two ago, not far from Packsaddle
Lake, a small, artificial body of water in western Oklahoma. I
had climbed a sandy mound. Peering through the sagebrush, I saw
a roadrunner under a bush not far away, busy feeding. He ran out
into the sunlight now and then, but his attention was directed
principally to grasshoppers that must have been feeding on the
leaves. These he snatched, with nimble leaps upward, in the tip of
his bill. To reach the insects that were in the midst of the bush,
he scrambled noisily through the twigs, caught a few, then sprang
back to the ground to catch those that had fallen or jumped out.
W. E. Allen (1932) gives us a breezy description of the capture of
a small bird by a roadrunner that had been running just ahead of
him. He says:
Before we had gone as much as a hundred yards, however,
his [the roadrunner’s] pacing routine was broken by a
sudden dash from a slouchy pose and the development of a
brown streak across the road which ended in his emergence
on a bank beyond a parked automobile. Somewhere beneath
the car he had struck a full-fledged young bird (probably
a “California Linnet”) at full speed * * *. The victim
appeared to have been caught by the neck, which probably
accounts for the fact that it made no outcry. It must have
been badly stunned also by the stroke of the heavy beak
because it struggled only feebly.
After becoming satisfied that I was not disposed to
interfere, the captor moved on to a point about 10 feet
farther away. Here he hammered the hard ground two or three
times with the body of his victim, evidently destroying all
signs of life. Then he dropped it, grasped a wing near its
base, and with a skilful jerk stripped nearly every feather
from it * * *. After stripping the wing he spent three or
four minutes in picking at the birdling’s body with some
hammering and jerking mixed in. Apparently this was for the
purpose of getting rid of feathers. At any rate, they were
thrown around profusely, and the movements were different
from those a little later which seemed to be devoted to
mauling and crushing the body into a shapeless mass.
Finally this mass (which seemed to be about as large as the
roadrunner’s head) was picked up with a kind of tossing
motion which landed it in the back of his mouth. The
first effort at swallowing, consisting of tossings of the
head and spasmodic movements of the jaws and throat, only
resulted in getting the mass started into the throat. After
a short rest another series of these movements shifted it
along to a visible extent but it was not till the fourth
series was finished that the food appeared to have been
swallowed completely. After this was accomplished the
bird turned toward me and slouched into a curious pose of
indifference mixed with satisfaction.
A roadrunner’s program is full enough with only himself to feed.
But when he has a nestful of hungry young he must indeed wear
himself ragged catching insects and lizards and snakes. These he
brings from near and far, going and coming in such a way as to keep
himself hidden. With what satisfaction must he start a foot-long
garter snake on its way down the gullet of one of his offspring,
knowing that one voice at least will be stilled so long as any of
that snake remains to be swallowed!
Many an interesting account has been written of the roadrunner’s
foraging activities. A. Brazier Howell (1916) tells us of
difficulties he had in retrieving small bird specimens before
roadrunners stole them. He writes:
While I was out collecting, these abundant birds would
often be seen skulking about with eyes open for any
opportunity, and it was always necessary, in such cases,
to make a dash for a specimen after it was shot. On two
occasions a roadrunner darted in and grabbed a bird when
I had almost reached it, once hopping two feet in air to
nip a sparrow that had lodged in the branches of a bush.
At another time I was watching a small flock of sparrows
as they busily fed in the brush, when I noted a roadrunner
stealing up like a cat, taking advantage of every bit of
cover. When at the proper distance, it rushed out and
sprang into the air at the retreating sparrows.
J. Eugene Law (1923) tells us of a roadrunner that tried to pull
a dead golden-crowned sparrow through the ¾-inch-mesh wire of a
sparrow trap. This writer states that he did not actually see the
roadrunner kill the sparrow, though an autopsy showed “the entire
brain area” to be “dark with blood infusion.”
My pet roadrunners did not capture horned “frogs” unless other food
was difficult to obtain. They killed and ate these well-armored
reptiles, however. A horned lizard, confronted by its ancient foe,
would flatten out, rise high on its legs, and sway back and forth
as if about to leap or inflict a dangerous bite. But a roadrunner
is not to be bluffed. Grasping his tough victim by the head or
back he beat it against a convenient stone. Thirty or forty blows
were needed to render it sufficiently quiescent for ingestion.
If swallowed while yet alive it had to be coughed up for further
battering.
When not engaged in pursuing food a roadrunner may rest, seeking
either a cool spot on the ground or the shadowy heart of a tree.
In the morning it sometimes takes a sunbath. Henry W. Henshaw
(1875) tells us that “it loves to meet the first rays of the rising
sun, ascending for this purpose to the top of the mesquite trees,
and, standing erect on the topmost branch, loosens its feathers,
and appears to catch all the grateful warmth possible, remaining
in this attitude for many minutes.” My captive roadrunners took
sunbaths every day, spreading their wings and exposing the
featherless tracts of their backs.
The roadrunner has a streak of domesticity in his nature. Mrs.
Bailey (1922) has given us a delightful account of a remarkably
tame though uncaged bird that lived about camp. Concerning this
bird (which was known as “Koo”), Mrs. Bailey says:
It was not his potential usefulness as a camp watchman
or killer of “varmints” but his ready friendliness and
attractive ways which attached us to our rare camp visitor.
If we were busy when he came he would call _koo, koo_, and
then wait for us to discover him. Sometimes we would look
hard before finding him and finally make him out standing
on the mesquite slope above us, his feathers puffed out
spreading the streaks on his chest till they and his
light underparts toned in perfectly with a background
of straw-colored ground and dry weed-stalks--completely
camouflaging him. It was astonishing to see how such a
large, marked bird could disappear in its background. And
what a contrast that round, bird-like form made to the
grotesque running figure we were familiar with--long neck,
slender body, and long tail, one straight line.
J. K. Jensen (1923) tells us of a pair of roadrunners that fed
“with the chickens on a ranch near Santa Fe,” that “came regularly
for a ‘hand out’ and often went to roost in the poultry house.”
This author does not specify what the “hand out” was. Needless to
say, it hardly could have been corn or wheat.
Frightened from the nest a roadrunner may scuttle off to remain
hidden for some time. Again, it may stay close by, attempting to
lure the intruder away. M. French Gilman (1915) describes a mother
bird that was “very anxious about the eggs,” that “ran around
close to me in a mammalian sort of way, flat on the ground, tail
dragging, and head stretched out in front only about three inches
from the soil. She did not look like a bird at all, and though
making no fluttering demonstration, her antics were calculated to
excite curiosity and distract attention from the nest.”
J. R. Pemberton (1916) describing a “variation of the broken-wing
stunt” by a roadrunner, writes:
As I was climbing near the nest the bird hopped to the
ground. Immediately it began to squirm, scramble, and drag
itself away across an open space and in full view. The bird
was simulating a broken leg instead of the conventional
broken wing! The bird held its wings closed throughout the
demonstration though frequently falling over on its side
in its enthusiasm. The whole performance was kept entirely
in my view, the bird gradually working away from the tree
until it was some 35 feet distant when it immediately ran
back to the base of the tree and repeated the whole show.
I had been so interested up to now that I had failed to
examine the nest which when looked into contained five
young probably a week old. When I got to the ground the
bird continued its stunt rather more frantically than
before and in order to encourage the bird I followed, and
was pleased to see it remain highly consistent until I was
decoyed to a point well outside the grove. Here the bird
suddenly ran away at full speed and in a direction still
away from the nest.
_Voice._--We have already described the spring song of the
roadrunner. Howard Lacey (1911) tells us that the bird “makes a
loud chuckling crowing noise * * * and also a cooing noise that
might easily be mistaken for the voice of some kind of dove; it
also makes a sort of purring sound in its throat, _perrp, perrp,
perrp_.”
As for this “purring sound,” I am not at all sure that it is
_vocal_. One of the roadrunner’s most characteristic alarm sounds
is not a _cry_ at all; it is an incisive, clackety noise made by
rolling the mandibles together rapidly and sharply. Even young
birds just out of the nest can produce this sound, though the
softness of the bill muffles the sharpness somewhat.
Young birds in the nest make a buzzing sound when begging for
food. Well do I remember a nestful of these “infant dragons” that
I found in April 1914. Concerning these I have written (1936):
“Accidentally I touched an upturned beak and four great mouths,
wobbling uncertainly on scrawny necks, rose in unison. I jerked
back my hand--the pink-blotched lining of those mouths had an
almost poisonous appearance. From the depths of the small frames
came a hoarse, many-toned buzzing which gave the impression that a
colony of winged insects had been stirred to anger.”
_Enemies._--There is little doubt in my mind that the roadrunner’s
worst enemy is man. Man wants quail to shoot. Man sees a roadrunner
chasing young quail or finds a young quail in a roadrunner’s
stomach and lo, thumbs turn down, another name goes on the black
list, and the roadrunner’s doom is sealed. In many a southwestern
State there have been chaparral-cock drives and contests, bounty
on roadrunners, newspaper stories and editorials defaming the
bird. Too, there are those who _eat_ roadrunners, or who chase and
shoot them for “sport.” In populated sections the roadrunner has
a hard time. Where man appears the roadrunner all too frequently
disappears.
Certain predatory birds and mammals doubtless prey occasionally
on the roadrunner, though adult birds usually are swift or wary
enough to evade such enemies as coyotes and hawks. Crows and ravens
doubtless eat some roadrunner eggs and young. Even the snakes
themselves may take a hand in keeping the snake killer tribe from
becoming too numerous. Remains of a roadrunner were found in the
stomach of a red-tailed hawk collected by Dr. Josselyn Van Tyne
in Brewster County, Tex., February 28, 1935 (Van Tyne and Sutton,
1937).
W. L. McAtee (1931) in his timely “Little Essay on Vermin” so
justly states the case of roadrunner _versus_ mankind that his
comments are of special significance here:
The Road-runner is persecuted almost throughout its range
* * * as an alleged destroyer of Quail eggs, and state
bounties are even paid for its destruction. Yet the
Road-runner never has been shown to be a special enemy of
Quail, and it cannot eat their eggs except during a brief
season. The Road-runner is as nearly omnivorous as any of
our birds, eating anything in its habitat that is readily
available and swallowable. No doubt it will eat Quail eggs,
but it is equally certain that not one meal in a thousand
of all the birds at all times consists of Quail eggs.
The Road-runner actually lives up to its repute of killing
rattlesnakes; without doubt, it eats more scorpions,
centipedes, and tarantulas * * * than it does Quail eggs,
and it is a voracious consumer of grasshoppers. It is a
unique bird, not only in our fauna but in that of the
world, has extremely interesting habits, and in its choice
of food in the long run undoubtedly does more good than
harm. Its persecution is all but baseless and is thoroughly
unjustified.
DISTRIBUTION
_Range._--Southwestern United States south to central Mexico.
The range of the roadrunner extends =north= to north-central
California (Navarro River, Owens River, and Death Valley); Colorado
(Meeker, Cañon City, and Las Animas); and southern Kansas (probably
Caldwell and Arkansas City). =East= to Kansas (Arkansas City);
central Oklahoma (Norman); Texas (Fort Worth, Kerrville, and San
Antonio); Tamaulipas (Matamoras, Soto La Marina, and Tampico); and
Pueblo (San Salvador). =South= to Puebla (San Salvador); Mexico
(Tenango); and Jalisco (Zapotlan). =West= to Jalisco (Zapotlan);
Baja California (Cape San Lucas, San Cristobal Bay, and Rosario);
and California (San Diego, Mentone, Santa Barbara, Sebastopol, and
Navarro River).
_Casual records._--The roadrunner is not known outside of its
normal range, but a remarkable occurrence was the finding of a
specimen at Marshall Pass, Colo., at an elevation of about 10,000
feet, on October 12, 1907.
_Egg dates._--Arizona: 20 records, April 5 to June 24; 10 records,
April 20 to June 3, indicating the height of the season.
California: 73 records, March 4 to July 16; 37 records, March 25 to
May 2.
Mexico: 5 records, April 16 to May 16.
Texas: 57 records, March 18 to July 5; 29 records, May 3 to June 1.
COCCYZUS MINOR MAYNARDI Ridgway
MAYNARD’S CUCKOO
HABITS
The mangrove cuckoo (_Coccyzus minor minor_) long remained on
the A. O. U. Check-list, including the third edition, based on
Audubon’s record of a specimen taken on Key West and figured
in his Birds of America. Ridgway (1916) examined this specimen
and identified it as the Jamaican mangrove cuckoo (_C. minor
nesiotes_). Now the 1931 Check-list makes the statement that all
Florida records prove to be referable to _C. minor maynardi_, and
excludes both of the above races from the list.
The mangrove cuckoo, of which Maynard’s is a subspecies, is
well named, for all races of the species seem to be confined
almost exclusively to the mangroves. The only one I ever saw was
encountered on our way to Alligator Lake through the mangrove
forests near Cape Sable, Fla. Arthur H. Howell (1932) collected the
only two he ever saw “in a black mangrove swamp near the mouth of
Allens River, below Everglade.”
_Nesting._--Audubon (1842) says: “The nest is slightly constructed
of dry twigs, and is almost flat, nearly resembling that of the
Yellow-billed Cuckoo.” Mr. Howell (1932) says that “a set of two
fresh eggs (now in the Florida State Museum), which the female was
beginning to incubate, was taken at Chokoloskee, June 4, 1903, from
a nest 7 feet up in a red mangrove.”
Oscar E. Baynard tells me that he took two sets of two eggs each,
on May 25 and 26, 1912, in a dense stand of extra large mangroves
in Pinellas County, Fla.
_Eggs._--The eggs of Maynard’s cuckoo are practically
indistinguishable from those of the yellow-billed cuckoo. The
measurements of 20 eggs average 30.77 by 23.18 millimeters; the
eggs showing the four extremes measure =33.1= by 22.6, 31.4 by
=24.3=, =27.9= by 22, and 30 by =21.6= millimeters.
_Young._--Audubon (1842) says that this cuckoo “raises two broods
in the season, and feeds its young on insects until they are able
to go abroad.”
_Plumages._--I have seen no nestlings of this species, but a fully
grown juvenal, taken in the Bahamas on June 23, has the upper parts
everywhere “buffy brown” to “wood brown,” including the crown,
which in the adult is grayer than the back; there are narrow white
tips on the secondaries, tertials, and all the wing coverts; there
are still narrower white tips on the primaries, which soon wear
away; the black space below and behind the eye, so conspicuous in
the adult, is lacking; the central tail feathers are paler grayish
brown terminally than in the adult, and the lateral tail feathers
are pale “wood brown,” instead of black, with whitish, instead of
pure white, tips, which are also less clearly defined than in the
adult. I have seen young birds in this plumage in July, August, and
September. The body plumage is probably molted during the fall,
but the juvenal wings and tail are apparently retained until the
following spring or summer; I have seen young birds molting wings
and tail in February, June, and August, thus assuming a fully adult
plumage.
_Food._--The food of Maynard’s cuckoo consists mainly of
caterpillars, spiders, moths, flies, grasshoppers, and other
insects; probably a few small fruits and wild berries are eaten at
times. Mr. Howell (1932) says: “The stomachs of two birds taken
at Everglade, Florida, in March, were examined in the Biological
Survey; the food in one consisted mainly of hairy caterpillars
(Arctiidae), the stomach being well lined with caterpillar
spines; the remains of 3 mantids (_Stagmomantis_) composed the
remainder. The other stomach contained 4 long-horned grasshoppers,
lepidopterous larvae, locustid eggs, mantids, and spiders.”
_Behavior._--Maynard (1896) says of the habits of this cuckoo in
the Bahamas:
They frequent thickets near fields, and often venture
into the open grounds to feed, but usually when taken by
surprise in such places, quickly retreat to the thickets,
into which they glide easily. Once within the cover of
the shrubbery, their movements are quite deliberate, but
when approached, they will jump from branch to branch, and
although not appearing to hasten, will manage to elude
their pursuer, and become quickly lost in the foliage.
The flight of this Cuckoo is rapid, the wings being moved
quickly, much more so than in the Black or Yellow Billed
Cuckoos. They generally move straight forward, without
doubling, and when they wish to alight, they do so suddenly
without any preliminary lessening of their speed, and as
soon as their feet touch the branch the tail is dropped
perpendicularly. As a rule, this Cuckoo is rather shy,
especially when in open fields, but I once came across one
near Mathewstown, Inagua, that was feeding in an old field,
that was very tame, allowing me to approach within ten
feet of it, as it deliberately searched for food among the
remains of partly decayed stubs of trees which stood in the
clearing.
_Voice._--On this subject Maynard says:
All through the winter Maynard’s Cuckoo is rather silent,
but as spring approaches they begin to utter their singular
cries, and at times, more especially before rain, are quite
noisy. The notes may be represented by the syllables “ou,
ou, ou, ou, qua, qua, qua, coo, coo, coo.”
The “ous” are given very rapidly, with a decided
Cuckoo-like intonation.
The “quas” are harsher, more like the notes of the Bahama
tree frog, and are not hurriedly given. The last three
notes are more Cuckoo-like than any of the others. The
first four notes are often omitted, then the harshly and
gravely given “quas” begin the song and on occasions these
quaint sounds are not followed by any other notes, then it
is sometimes difficult to distinguish the notes uttered
from some of those uttered by the large Andros Island
Cuckoo, Saurothera andrea. This varied song is uttered in
the early morning with rather more energy than at any other
time in the day.
_Field marks._--The Maynard’s cuckoo might easily be mistaken
for a yellow-billed cuckoo, as it doubtless often has been, the
tail markings being practically the same. But the underparts are
decidedly washed with “pinkish buff” and “cinnamon-buff,” though
these parts are not so deeply colored as in the mangrove cuckoo. If
clearly seen at close range, the grayish crown and the black area
behind and, narrowly, below the eye are good field marks.
DISTRIBUTION
_Range._--Northeastern South America, Central America to central
Mexico, the West Indies, and southern Florida.
The range of the mangrove cuckoo extends =north= to Nayarit
(Tres Marias Islands and San Blas); Tamaulipas (Alta Mira);
Yucatan (Izamal, Temax, Chichen-Itza, Cozumel Island, and Mujeres
Island); western Cuba (Isle of Pines); Florida (Anclote Keys and
Cape Florida); the Bahama Islands (Berry, Eleuthera, and Watling
Islands); the Dominican Republic (Monte Cristi, Sosua, and Seibo);
Puerto Rico (Desecheo, Culebra, and Vieques Islands); and the
Virgin Islands (St. Thomas, Tortola, and Virgin Gorda). =East= to
the Virgin Islands (Virgin Gorda); the Leeward and Windward Islands
(Antigua, Guadeloupe, Dominica, Martinique, Santa Lucia, St.
Vincent, and Grenada); and Trinidad. =South= to Trinidad; northern
Venezuela (Aruba Island); Panama (Chiriqui); and Costa Rica (San
Jose and Puntarenas). =West= to Costa Rico (Puntarenas, Pozo del
Rio Grande, and Pigres); Nicaragua (Greytown and Chinandega);
Honduras (Roatan Island and Puerto Caballo); El Salvador (La
Libertad); western Guatemala (near Ocos); Oaxaca (Cacoprieto); and
Nayarit (Tres Marias Islands).
The range as outlined is for the entire species, which has been
separated into several subspecies, only one of which is found
in North America. This race, known as Maynard’s cuckoo, _C. m.
maynardi_, is found in the Bahamas, Cuba, and the southern part of
Florida, including the Florida Keys.
_Migration._--Apparently only Maynard’s cuckoo is migratory,
and this only in the Florida part of its range. Early dates of
arrival in Florida are: Gator Lake in Monroe County, March 22, and
Punta Rossa, March 29. A late date of departure from Key West is
September 19.
_Egg dates._--Florida and the Keys: 13 records, May 17 to July 10.
COCCYZUS AMERICANUS AMERICANUS (Linnaeus)
YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO
PLATES 6, 7
HABITS
The yellow-billed cuckoo, with its western subspecies, covers
practically all the United States and some of southern Canada. It
is mainly a bird of the Austral Zone, being much commoner in the
Southern States than in the northern portions of its range. In New
England it is not so common as the black-billed cuckoo, though in
some seasons it seems to be a familiar bird. Originally it was
probably a woodland bird, but, like many other species, it has
learned to frequent the haunts of man, where it is not molested
and where it finds an abundant food supply in our shade trees,
orchards, and gardens. Its favorite haunts are still the woodland
thickets, where the tree growth is not too heavy, brush-grown
lanes, shady roadsides, dense thickets along small streams, and
apple orchards in rural districts. In dense, heavy woods it is
seldom seen.
_Nesting._--Unlike the European cuckoo, both of our North American
species usually build their own nests and rear their own young,
though they are very poor nest builders and are often careless
about laying in each other’s nests or the nests of other species.
Major Bendire (1895) gives the following very good account of the
nesting habits of the yellow-billed cuckoo: